A Fish In The Sea
by Black Casanova
Summary: Sephiroth is always eager to put Genesis in his place. Sephiroth/Genesis. Yaoi. Lemon. AU. Samurai-centric.


This contains male/male content of the AU type.

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Trap**

A Fish In The Sea

The wind blew softly over the surface of the lake, forming small successive waves that lapped at the mottled grey granite lining the sides of the jade waters. The garden was large, well kempt – as one could only expect – and much grander than anything he had ever seen. A perfect contrast of green and red like this was surely one of a kind.

Even the Shogun's private gardens were not as beautiful as these, but he was an arrogant man who found little beauty in the world when it was not at war. Perhaps only the temples and imperial palace themselves could trump this, with their sacred creatures wandering freely through the pines and sakuras.

Here, the only movement came from the breeze rustling through the scarlet leaves of acers and the white, gold and scarlet koi that stirred agitatedly in the pool as the shadow of a man loomed over their shoals.

Lacquered zori rapped against the wood underfoot, crossing the clear waters of the lake to the other side: an island, isolated from the rest of the grounds. Upon that island, there was a summer house that was barely visible behind all the trees and shrubs. It was private hideaway for a busy daimyo; a place to go where there would be no distractions and no interruptions.

Coming to the end of the bridge, azure eyes caught sight of the telltale silver of his lord amongst the foliage. Immediately, the hand that did not lie instinctively upon the larger of his two swords rose to comb fingers through his fiery hair, although he knew another gust of wind would just blow it askew once more as soon as he lowered his hand back down to his side.

"Sephiroth." Genesis bent at the waist for a moment or two before standing back to his full height and found his daimyo still facing the other way. Long silver hair was tied at the nape of Sephiroth's neck with a strip of scarlet silk, cascading down a tapering back wrapped in dark navy cloth.

"Your performance on the battlefield astounds me as always, Genesis," Sephiroth said in his usual deep voice. He didn't bother to grant any other form of greeting to his warrior.

Façades were hard things to switch on and off in the blink of an eye; Genesis knew this all too well after spending more than a decade at the man's side.

The redhead watched silently as the daimyo passed from tree to tree, occasionally reaching up to pluck a star shaped leaf off the drooping branches. Stepping off the gravel path and onto the lush carpet of grass and mosses, Genesis opened his mouth to speak, himself wandering around the trunks of a few grand acers. "I missed the blossoms, how were they this year?"

"Good," Sephiroth replied simply. Strange how the man possessed and kept such an exquisite garden when Genesis doubted if he could really appreciate its beauty. "It was odd without you."

Turning to face the other direction, Genesis smirked, covering such an expression with the sleeve of his kimono. "Missed me?"

As Genesis expected, Sephiroth didn't reply, probably deeming the question too asinine. "The campaign lasted longer than we anticipated," he noted.

"True. The bastard didn't want to die… but he did regardless."

"I'm sure you enjoyed that," Sephiroth said and walked over to where Genesis was stood, leaning his back against a tree. In the light that filtered through the maple leaves overhead, his hair was darker, but the red more vivid. Eyes shone bright and blue with amusement. "Three months spreading your legs for Angeal whenever he willed it…"

To that, Genesis laughed a little, resting his head back against bark. "So _that's_ why I've been allowed no respite?"

Another step and Sephiroth wrapped his left arm snugly around Genesis' waist, between warm fabric and the roughness of nature. "You can rest when I've congratulated you." He leant closer to Genesis, bridging the few inches in height that they differed and pressing his lips firmly against those of the samurai. He pushed his tongue deep inside that spicy mouth and put up with no unnecessary fight for dominance by biting down on the tongue that presented it.

When they pulled apart, Genesis was breathless and smirking. He raised his left hand from the hilt of his katana and placed it upon Sephiroth's shoulder, toying with a lock of long silver hair. "Will you strip me of my daisho and leave me in that place waiting for your return each night until I'm next required on the battlefield?" He gestured with his head to the summerhouse across the pathway.

"Of course," Sephiroth replied bluntly. "You know how I hate sharing you." He took a firm hold of Genesis' wakizashi and pulled both it and its sheath out of the band that held it closely to the redhead's hip. The prized red lacquered katana followed quickly, propped against the acer by their side.

"And what if I was to tell you that Angeal was not the only one I entertained during the campaign?" Genesis saw how the change in Sephiroth's expression was instantaneous. Both knew that the redhead wouldn't dare evoke the daimyo's temper in such a way, for fear of his own life. But still, contemplating such an idea was not one Sephiroth found appealing.

"Well," Sephiroth sneered, already working away at the ties of Genesis' hakama until they fell loosely to the ground around their feet. "I'll just have to confirm that you're lying."

"And if I'm not?" Genesis' defiance knew no bounds… for reasons that were all too well known to the daimyo. After three months of war and blood shed and Angeal's tenderness, Genesis wanted what his body needed and craved, and that he could – and would – only get from Sephiroth. How much he was craving was demonstrated by his insubordination. He stood statuesquely still as Sephiroth unfolded both of his kimono like he was unwrapping a priceless trinket, and went to inspecting every inch of the golden skin exposed.

Sephiroth noted some fresh battle scars, still raised, and faint pink bruises on his shoulders and neck left from a loving mouth. Fingertips ran over these marks; he smiled; his eyes curved like the blades by their side. "You tease me."

"I can't help it that you're possessive and insecure," Genesis chuckled darkly, following Sephiroth's guiding hands that were urging him onto his knees. His back scraped uncomfortably against the rough bark of the tree trunk, but the lush grass of the ground was soft on his long legs.

"At this rate you'll be lucky if you ever see your swords again," Sephiroth said bitterly, watching as the redhead stripped him with a practised ease. Many others usually struggled to know what to untie and how, where to pull and what needed to be removed first; only another of a similar rank could make the task quick and satisfactory. There were a few geisha, Sephiroth had heard, that possessed the skill as well, but unlike the majority of the troops in his army, he had no interest in women. He had Genesis and that often proved to be more than enough. For now, the redhead had left the two kimono loose on his shoulders.

"And leave me without my honour?" the redhead asked whimsically, blue eyes snapping up to meet cold emerald as he brought Sephiroth's half-erect member out into the open.

"Whores don't have honour."

Genesis' lips curved wickedly as he took the head of that cock past his lips and immediately set to sucking it into full hardness. He winced when Sephiroth's fingers tied into his hair and pulled him closer, and upwards and closer once again, forcing him to take more and more flesh into his mouth.

With his head held firmly by his daimyo, Genesis had to put his tongue to work, lapping at the underside of Sephiroth's cock and humming an old poem written under the light of the old red acers but whether Sephiroth would actually recognise it was debateable. After all the years of reading poems to him as they meditated, Sephiroth still remained blissfully and irritatingly ignorant. It was as if the man actually shut his samurai's voice completely out of his head.

The angle changed; Genesis flicked his eyes upwards to see Sephiroth's right palm flat against the tree, supporting his weight as his legs began to weaken. Smirking, Genesis closed his eyes and hollowed his cheeks. Immediately, Sephiroth's hand was moving his head back and forth, dictating a rhythm that was far from gentle and soft and far from comfortable.

Genesis raised his hands in the run for the final hurdle, coiling his long fingers around the exposed shaft of Sephiroth's cock and moving along the length to concentrate his ministrations upon the head.

With an unrestrained growl, Sephiroth released into Genesis's mouth. Hooded green eyes watched the redhead pull back completely – a limp hand presented little challenge – and swallow his earnings with a slight grimace.

Content with his lord's speechlessness, perhaps from going without the touch of another, or even of himself for so long, Genesis pushed himself to his feet and regained his position against the tree trunk. The wind was cold against his almost bare flesh in the shade. Sephiroth pressing up against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, chased away that icy feeling almost immediately. Instead, Genesis found that the daimyo had turned to biting deep into his skin, fully intending to leave a mark. Genesis hated such a gesture. It was a sign of his subservience that Sephiroth made sure everyone would see, whether they were the troops, the enemy or the Shogun himself. Sephiroth loved to show off his fiery redhead, one that many had tried to claim and died in the process of doing so.

Rolling his head back onto the opposite shoulder, Genesis groaned and let the silver haired man continue regardless. At least these marks made him untouchable. It showed that he was not only just the Daimyo's right hand and General - he was also his lover. Objectification was just the price to pay for such a status.

After a minute or two, the roughness of Sephiroth's affection ceased; the throbbing in his neck was dulled by deceptively soft kisses. The taller of the pair pressed closer into Genesis, forcing him back against the tree. The uneven bark dug into his skin, making his recently healed wounds ache. Lips were placed at his ear; breathing slowed back down to the usual, languid pace that he would wake up next to on his luckier mornings.

"I've bought you something," Sephiroth whispered with a twist to his lips. And suddenly he pulled back, letting Genesis shrug on his nagajuban and grab swords before holding tightly onto him as they made their way over to the secluded summerhouse.

Sephiroth was first upon the nure'en, turning and taking Genesis' hand to help him up, even though no such assistance was needed. Sliding the shoji to the left, Sephiroth crossed the threshold and stepped to the side so that Genesis could enter.

In the centre of the room on a frame of painted bamboo hung a long kimono of the deepest crimson, with brightly coloured koi swimming in invisible streams around the lower half of the gown and the deep sleeves. It wasn't the first of its kind to be presented to Genesis as a gift from his lord and lover, but there was something about this particular robe that made it a cut above the rest. The sleeves were not as long as his others… and that could only mean one thing. A proposal. For what Genesis could not fathom.

"You won me a great victory," Sephiroth started, pacing across the soft tatami mats over to the near-speechless redhead. "You deserve this."

"And if I lost that campaign?" Genesis turned his head to shoot Sephiroth a curious glance.

"Then I would find someone else to wear it," came his curt, matter-of-fact reply. It reminded him of his position – under the daimyo, still a servant regardless of his standing in the military – and that he was a commodity; a possession as much as he was a lover. He was one of many that sought out Sephiroth.

Genesis loosened out of his musings as Sephiroth took up place behind him, bodies flush once again, with the taller male's hands on his shoulders, guiding the plain white of his undergarments back down to the ground. The slow grind of hips; the warmth of the lips that met with the curve of his neck, lingering there, distracted Genesis with a promise of his own euphoria long enough for Sephiroth to take both of Genesis' swords from his hand without the usual struggle.

"Try it on." He pushed the redhead over to the silk robe. "I'll return when I have completed the official formalities." With that, Sephiroth turned back and slid the shoji shut once more.

Sighing, Genesis ran his hand through his long auburn hair, fluffing it up as he strode over to the priceless garment. Were the koi a symbol of affection or bravery, or were they a mockery – that he had become the beauty that was contained for personal enjoyment; that this shack kept on the island by a retractable bridge was his pond, to which he was contained to? The only company he was presented with in the time between conflicts and campaigns was Sephiroth, who came and went like the seasons of the year. Evanescent.

It was hard not to admire the kimono despite of the possible meanings behind the gesture as well as the pattern… was Sephiroth intending upon retiring him from his position in the army and condemning him to the life of a daimyo's concubine? Or rather was this just a sign of the exclusive affection that Genesis never saw anywhere else? For now, he trailed his slender-fingered hand down the painted silk before turning his back to it and going into the adjacent room for a long over-due rest.


End file.
